Dreaming Out Loud
by A Paper Rose
Summary: Eames wants to crack the façade that Arthur puts up, to see what he dreams about. After a brush with Limbo, he decides to satisfy his curiosity. Warning: Slash, angst, fluff, songfic. You have been warned. M/M! Eames/Arthur Established Relationship!


**Title: Dreaming Out Loud.**  
><strong>Pairings: EamesArthur - Established Relationship. Post-Inception.**  
><strong>Warnings: Slash - MM (guy/guy). A mixture of angst and fluff. Don't like, don't read.  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline.<strong>

**A/N: This is a songfic! (Dreaming Out Loud – Sally J Johnson.) This fic is dedicated to my lovely friend Grace, who adores Inception (so much so that she has the Inception noise on her phone) and insists that everyone in it is called Arthur. xxx**

**Enjoy!**

_Don't wake me._

_Don't make a sound._

When Eames had stumbled upon Arthur's dreaming form, he'd first wanted to wake the man up, give him the kick early, just to see the twisted curl of his upper lip, the frown creasing his forehead, the glint in his expressive eyes as he glowered at him for the interruption. He might have shouted. He might have even sworn.

_I'm only here..._

_Dreaming out loud._

Eames made sure at least once a day he made Arthur send a sharp glare his way, whether it was for Eames' taste in clothing, or a cheesy bad joke, or mild teasing, or sarcasm-doused flirting. He loved ruffling the other man's feathers, to see a small fracture in that perfect and professional glass façade he insisted on keeping up around others and only ever let down when they were at home, when the lights were low, away from the eyes of everyone else. He wanted to see if he could ever get him to just lose control in public, to be free from the confines of his own barriers, to act like the young man he was and not the older persona he gave off.

He knew that Arthur had an imagination – had seen it when they'd performed the inception on Fischer. He only said otherwise to get a rise. Just like he knew that somewhere, underneath all those starched layers of proficiency and order, that Arthur wasn't a stick in the mud, but a soul with passion. He saw that every time that Arthur smiled.

_Don't take a step now._

_Stand in the place you are._

It stopped him from waking Arthur. What could he be dreaming about? Was it his ever favourite clinical lines and tranquil colours?

The man looked so fragile while he slept. He couldn't keep up the icy smokescreen while unconscious. And Eames knew he needed to relax. Even though Cobb had retreated from the business for a while to be with his children, Arthur had continued to take up jobs, despite the fact they were one man down. He'd been working twice as hard as before and even though he constantly threatened – at least twice per day – to throw Eames off the team he knew Arthur never would.

And Eames knew (though he hated to think it) that it was getting to Arthur.

_All of your fears..._

_Find you in safer arms._

The man had been killed so many times in the last few dreams they'd performed. The last job, though, was the worst. They'd been performing an extraction, but it required three levels; difficult, but not as so as an inception. He and Arthur had carried on to the third level, leaving the others behind. They'd had around half an hour before the kick. Eames had been messing around, joking and laughing and grabbing Arthur about the waist in side-tackle hugs to try and get a reaction other than a half-exasperated, half-affectionate sigh. But when Arthur had been shot, when the young man's eyes had blown wide with pain, when blood pooled red and sticky over the pavement... that was when it struck Eames that he couldn't let Arthur die, or help him die, like all those times before. Because he wouldn't wake up.

Limbo.

The word sent shivers down the Forger's spine.

He'd taken out the last shooting projection he could see and then flung himself to his knees and covered the wound in Arthur's body with his hands before the echo had even ended. The viscous scarlet liquid had seeped through his fingers but he refused to stop pushing, refused to stop talking to the man on the ground, refused to stop spewing out nonsense in an attempt to make the Point Man stay with him, refused to stop pressing kisses to cooling lips to urge a response.

_Hold on to me._

Arthur eyes had flickered open, hazy with pain, yet he'd still managed to faintly smile a bittersweet blood-encrusted grin.

_Breathing slowly..._

"Daniel..." he'd whispered, and his eyes had rolled back.

Eames' felt his whole world start to crumble. "Arthur! Arthur, stay awake! Arthur, stay aw–" The dream collapsed around them and Eames was jolted into awareness.

_I'm only here to dream._

He ripped to PASIV from his arm and launched himself off of the bed he'd been positioned on, turning his poker chip totem in his hand, feeling the grooves he'd scratched in press reassuringly on his thumb, forcing himself to work through the residual drowsiness to get to where Arthur was laid out, eyelashes fluttering over molten chocolate orbs as they adjusted to the light and his brain realised that the pain he'd been feeling wasn't real.

Eames had kissed him, in front of the whole team. He didn't care who had seen.

So for now he'd let Arthur keep sleeping. If he slept, he'd be more alert later, and the threat of Limbo wouldn't hang so much over the heads of future complex jobs and wouldn't put the man he loved in so much danger.

But it didn't stop his curiosity.

Carefully, so as not to knock Arthur and kick him out of his state, he hooked himself up to the PASIV, too. If he couldn't wake Arthur up to ask him what he was dreaming of, he'd find out for himself. The world faded.

_So don't take me back, no,_

_Over familiar seas._

He wasn't on the ocean liner of their last employment. Eames wasn't surprised. Arthur was loath to repeat dreamscapes for fear of forgetting bits each time around and weakening the structures. He'd had enough of dreams collapsing.

But this was new, even for Arthur. He usually wasn't too fond of greenery.

Eames was in a meadow. A meadow, surrounded by more meadows, outlined by a protective wall of forest. The sun seemed to be a few hours from setting, the air was pleasantly warm and everything was quite except for a slight breeze that made the leaves on the trees dance.

_And I followed you..._

_As far as my heart would take me._

And there, in the very centre, lying on his back, eyes closed, waistcoat unbuttoned, gel-free curls being fanned by the puffs of air, was Arthur.

Eames lay down beside him.

"Daniel," said Arthur, softly, in greeting, without opening his eyes. He only ever called Eames "Daniel" when they were alone. He claimed it was to maintain professionalism. Eames knew it was because he liked being the only one to know that little secret.

_Hold on to me._

"Arthur," said Eames, equally softly, in turn, as Arthur shuffled sideways and propped himself up in Eames' lap. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's torso, a small smile gracing his face as the other man hummed quietly in contentment. He inhaled the sweet scent of Arthur's hair, relishing in the peace of the dream that Arthur's beautiful mind had created. So much for no imagination.

_Hold on to me_.

_Breathing slowly._

Ever so gently, Eames leant his head down and lightly captured Arthur's lips in a tender kiss. That seemed to break Arthur's focus on the meadow scene, for a kaleidoscope of colours whirled across the sky, and the younger man twisted himself around to press his lips harder against Eames'.

Eames smiled into the kiss and he pushed Arthur down on to the grass, savouring the keening noise that echoed up from Arthur's throat. There went that famous control.

_I'm only here to dream._

**So, what do you think? Reviews are welcome! Flames are not.**


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